


Always The Same

by hecatesbrat



Series: Always The Same [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Drunkenness, Gen, Implied Rough Sex, M/M, Mild Language, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-28 00:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hecatesbrat/pseuds/hecatesbrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tseng goes through a process of getting ready.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tseng

It was always the same. Or perhaps it just seemed that way.

Tseng looked down at the bed, that just moments before held his body. He sighed softly, no louder than a whisper on a hot summer's night.

He knelt slowly in front of his altar, breathing out the name of the divine, preparing his body and his mind for the day's battles and hardships. It would always be a hardship with Rufus Shinra in his life. The man pushed him to no end. Oddly, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Lighting the incense and a candle, his mind filled with visions of the blonde haired, blue-eyed man. The contempt that was constantly in his eyes.

Tseng's hands moved to the powders and bowl. Mixing, stirring and creating. Always moving.

Rufus was always a handful and Tseng never knew why Veld gave him the order to be his personal bodyguard. It didn't make any sense to him, but he did it. It was Veld's order; and as long as Veld was the leader of the Turks, he would obey. He could do no less.

The last of the creation of tilak mixture was at hand, and a chant slowly came from Tseng’s lips; a long and mournful sound, but one to keep protection at hand and evil at bay, sounded through the small room.

His hands pinned his hair back as the priests at the temple taught him, many years before, a glimmer in his past.

Slower and gentler than when he first laid hands on Rufus Shinra's body, he made the mark - the tilak - a sign considered to bestow spiritual comfort and protection against demons, bad luck, and other evil forces on his forehead. One he started wearing after joining the Turks.

Tseng could feel his world slowly fall to silence around him, the calm taking him brutally, much like Rufus would on some nights. He sometimes felt that when Rufus fucked him, that he was just trying to desecrate something holy and pristine. But how wrong that thought was; Tseng was nothing holy and far from pristine. Just a man who cared too much for the president's son, and did his job the best he could.

Slowly he bowed prostate in front of his altar, asking for protection, strength and giving thanks for the blessings that befallen upon him.

The deafening silence was broken by a cool voice, demanding that he hurry up, and to be in the meeting room within moments.

Tseng rose and watched as the white tails of the jacket leave his door frame: Yes, it was always the same.


	2. Always The Same: Rude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rude's moments as he gets ready before work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of this work was used for the Tumblr Round Robin of Turk Room's/Furniture writing that's happening at the moment. I recently found a bathroom that fit what I seen in my mind's eye for Rude's bathroom. My chapter is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980993/chapters/1942134

Amber eyes opened to a dimly lit room.

It was the same, always the same. Never changing.

The fan was spinning slowly, sluicing cool air over Rude’s body, brushing his torso like the breath of a lover.

The semi starkness of the impersonal room always brought his mood down. It reminded him of the things he, at times wished to forget: the seriousness, the job, the work he had to do, not to mention the constant pressure to keep his partner in line.

Once he woke, in the dim mornings, he needed to become someone else. He needed to fill the shoes of Rude, the Turk. Shin-ra’s elite task force for the Investigation Division of the General Affairs Department, whatever they did.

A soft snuffling noise caught Rude’s attention and he turned his head on the pillow.

Reno, his partner in their covert operations lay beside him, half dressed and reeking of booze.

Rude raised his eyebrows in lack of surprise and ran a hand over his face, a sigh muffled.

A list of things that needed to be done already began forming behind his eyelids. A list that was sounded off by Rufus Shinra two days earlier, and again yesterday by Veld.

Rufus was playing at being president of the company, but couldn’t take control until his father was out of the way, and Rude wondered how long that would be.

Slowly Rude sat up and stretched.

They were suppose to go to Gongaga to find a potential new recruit for SOLDIER. According to the scientists, this young man would be considered for the next Sephiroth. Rude rolled his eyes at that and made his way to the bathroom.

Slowly, like every morning he pulled out the shaving kit and laid the instruments out, lather brush, new blade, lather, straight edged razor and a couple of towels.

The sound of running water filled the bathroom and the warm steam quickly enveloped the naked form. 

The stiff towel grew limp and gave way to the hot water. Hands pressed on the marble counter top and Rude sighed again. He realized he would need to wake Reno soon and try to sober him up.

However, for the time being, it was a moment in time, a sliver just for him. For him to prepare for the day.

With slow and considerate care the towel was drained of its excess water and wrung; the towel was now soft against Rude’s face. He placed it on his stubbly scalp and relaxed from the warmth.

Closing his eyes he reached for the lather and brush. The movements came unbidden, second nature really; like breathing or fighting. The tension flowed out of the tall form, the slowly cooling cloth felt soothing, like lyrical salve from a team leader after a bruised ego.

Movements were smooth and the lather began to foam on the brush. The towel landed with a soft splat on the counter top and the sounds of the brush on scalp was soon heard.

Silence, much like the majority of the life he lead as a Turk, was all he had to offer to the steam.

Placing the brush and lather bar on the casing, he picked up the razor, changed the blades, never once looking at the equipment his hands held. Never once worried about making a mistake; being trained as he was, one had to have trust in themselves. Or failure would occur.

The goatee on Rude’s chin touched his chest, and the scraping sound of the straightedge was heard softly echoing in the bathroom. The blade followed the nape of the neck, up to the occipital bone, and over the curve of the back of the head. The blade sliced through water until it came up clean and the process started over again. Motions filled with precision shaved the rest of the curves on Rude’s head, leaving a bald crown.

Amber eyes peered back from the mirror. The hot water faucet turned on and steam quickly hid the watching eyes.

Once the tall Turk was sure that there was no more hair, the blades were cleaned and wiped down, the brush rinsed off of the excess lather, and all tools were placed back into their proper places.

Snuffling and incoherent mumbles overtook the silence and Rude knew that Reno was up, and soon, he’d have to take care of his partner.

It was always the same.


	3. Always The Same: Reno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reno's take on how moments are always the same.

It was always the godsdamned same. Like his life was on repeat with various fucked up elements all stuck in party mode with the remote missing.

Life was always boisterous for Reno. It was filled with noise and action; never a dull moment for the redhead. He remembered his youth being filled with prank pulling and running from authorities, which fell to the wayside once he became a member of said authority.

Everything about him was loud. His hair was bright and vivid, it screamed to be looked at, to be touched. His eyes flashed and danced with a mischief and daring that would scare some of the bravest.

Of course, once he started with the Turks, everything was so much more of a whirl-wind than previously. Learning procedures, training in specialized combat, and flight of different aerial vehicles were some of the highlights.

To Reno, being a Turk meant he got to do things like fly a chopper, and drive exceedingly fast for no reason. He was reckless and wild. The epitome of carelessness and considered a loose cannon by his superiors, despite the unorthodox tactics proving results that no other Turk had pulled in. He could be sassy and loud to anyone he wanted because he was a Turk. There were some days where it didn't matter, the noise couldn't or wouldn't fill him. He felt too hollow inside.

He found that he drank too much, swore too much, smoked too much and probably lost himself in the flesh of willing partners too much. It would probably one day kill him, however, right now, he didn't give a damn. He never gave a damn; technically, that wasn't true. He did give a damn. He cared about Rude, about his job and about ShinRa in its various elements; its Boss Man included.

Tonight though was different somehow. He found himself sitting in the darkened smokey bar where he was a regular. The Turk drank deeply from the tumbler in front of him, the ice clinking against the glass. Same drink, same bar, same amount out of his paycheck. He knew that he would probably end up in Rude's bed again tonight, laying there, listening to the bald man's deep sleep filled breathing, wondering once again how he managed to put up with him. With his actions and reckless behavior.

Rude was the calm to Reno's wildness. The calm before the storm so to speak, or maybe after the storm. They were two sides of a coin, different but the same. In honesty, he wasn't sure where he would be without Rude. Probably going through more request forms for a new partner.

Again, he motioned for his glass to be filled. He watched as the golden liquid poured from the mouth of the bottle. It was the same color of Rude's eyes. A husky amber, with splashes of gold. Making a motion to stop pouring Reno inhaled the scent of the alcohol and shivered. It smelt hot, hot as a fire would burn, but the initial feeling would be cool on the tongue only to become a warm burn as it spread itself through his body.

The warmth felt like lust sending its tendrils out through his body, or maybe it was lust. The alcohol was starting to blur the edges of...something for him. Downing his last drink for the night, again, Reno semi-staggered to the door, knowing full well the amount was on a tab that he'd get when he came back in.

Wandering around the city a bit, smoking his cigarettes, he debated about going home for once, or heading to Rude's. He knew full well that there was a Turk meeting in the morning and new assignments were to be handed out. To Rude's he'd go, confident that the bald man could whip up some of his infamous hangover coffee.

Pushing the button for the elevator that would bring him to the rooms in the Turk's headquarters. Hands groping at pockets looking for the keys that would let him into his partner's roomS, he felt himself smiling a bit at an idea of just to bang on the door till he let him in before gripping Rude in a knee locking kiss. Finding the keys in his jacket pocket however sorta dashed that idea. Sides, he was sure he didn't want to wake Tseng who was probably sleeping a few doors down and probably really cranky if woken.

Once the keyhole stopped moving on him, he slide the key home, unlocked the door and crept in. The room was cool like normal, but Reno figured it would be okay as Rude generated heat fairly well. Dropping his clothing on the floor as he made his way to the bed, he pulled the blanket and sheets back, crawled into bed and pressed himself against his partner's warm body.

The bold redheaded man pressed his lips to the taller man's shoulder in hopes he would wake and become aroused. For his troubles Rude rolled onto his stomach and draped an arm over Reno, causing him to sigh in disappointment.

"Always the fuckin' same yo."


End file.
